About 23 months into my LDS mission, I was stationed in a little town called Winnfield, Louisiana. It was my last area as I was training a new missionary. I was right at the sunset of my mission. I had worked hard for 23 months and had really put a lot of time into my studies. I felt good, I had been very obedient, and had a confidence that I think that most missionaries feel after nearly two years in the service of the Lord. I, at the time was about a month into training a new missionary from northern Utah. This young man came from a very wealthy upbringing. (His dad was the former owner of Price Savers, and at the time was the Executive V.P. For Walmart.) In the first month of his training he had lost 15 lbs. and was really picking up a good work ethic and took natural to the missionary work.
One day we were out knocking on doors and came to this large home. It was an old plantation home but it was in the hood. And like most old plantation homes in the area, had been converted into slum housing. Each bedroom became a tiny apartment, usually housing crack addicts and dealers. My companion hadn't quite become accustomed to the slums and was a little on edge as we knocked on the first door. After a couple of knocks a skinny black gentleman came to the door, he looked to be in his late-30's. He invited us in. The room was small and only had one chair. There was a bed and a small dresser and that was it. As I walked in I noticed a small 3" long metal tube about the diameter of a radio antenna with black electrical tape rapped around one end the other end had what looked like a piece of steel wool sticking out of it. From previous "hood" living I recognised it to be a crack pipe and knew that we were in for quite a discussion. I sat down on the chair and my comp sat down on the bed next to the black man. As we began the discussion the man stopped us and said:"Y'all don't know who I am do you". I said: "no we don't", He said: "look closer at me". I looked closer and said: "sorry nothings coming to mind" "Come on, look closer, y'all know who I am" I tell him:"I'm pretty good with faces, and I think it's safe to say that I really don't know you". He said: "Its me, John" "John"? "You know, John the Baptist". I looked at my comp, and I could tell he was getting a little uncomfortable. I mean who wouldn't feel uncomfortable, sitting on a small bed just inches away from some crack head who thought he was John the Baptist. I kind of smiled, stood up, reached on top of the dresser and grabbed the crack pipe and said, "tell me John, what does Jesus think about you smoking crack?" John kind of looked at me with his mouth open and said, Uhhhhhhh. I looked at my comp. and could tell he was really getting nervous, as he shifted himself to the edge of the bed. "You ain't gonna tell anyone are you?" John said. "No, I'm not going to tell anyone, but I am going to take your crack pipe." John just sat stunned. I asked John if he had any crack on him, because I needed that too. He said no, I don't have anymore. I said "John, this is a real problem, and we really want to help you, what other habits do you have that you need to quit?". "Well, I smoke." "Give me your smokes then", he handed me his pack of Bronco Lights 100's. "I want your lighter too". "Awwwww, can't I have my lighter, neither?" "Nope give it too me." He handed me his lighter. I pack my newly acquired goods into my scripture case, and said "John, your gonna need a lot of help, what other problems do we need to fix"? John scoots a little closer to my nervous and fidgeting companion, "Well, I am attracted to other mens!" Like a lightning bolt my companion, jumps up, looks at me and says "WE GOTTA GO, ELDER RIDDLE, I AIN'T SITTING HERE ANY MORE!" I really started to enjoy myself watching that, and said to my comp, just messing with him, "Elder, sit down, we have got to help this poor man." (Thinking of how glad I was that I wasn't sitting on the bed). My comp reluctantly sat down, and shot me a look that was a combination of a glare and a cry for help.
Almost immediately as my comp. sat down, I heard a ruckus in the hall of the old plantation home, dogs barking, a large slam, some muffled yelling and in the middle of all the yelling I could hear POLICE! I instantly realised that the room next door was experiencing a drug raid, and there I sat (not so smug anymore) with John the Baptist's crack pipe in my scripture case. I suddenly took on the fear of my new companion. I jumbled around in my scripture case for the crack pipe, stood up put the pipe on the dresser and said: "you can have this back, were getting out of here". John gave me a worried look as I walked to the door, as I looked down the hall, I could see that the coast was clear, so I turned around grabbed the crack pipe, looked at John and said "I think I will take this", thrust it into my pocket, and my comp and I took off to our bikes. As we walked to our bikes we passed a cop walking up towards the house, I got a little nervous but realising as we walked by the cop that he had no interest in a couple of Mormon missionaries, I felt better, and was glad that I grabbed the crack pipe after all. My comp and I jumped onto our bikes and drove away to the woods to dispose of the pipe. When we got to the woods I pulled the crack pipe out, we inspected it a little while I teased my comp for being so scared of the phony gay John. My comp smiled with a little relief on his face as we threw the crack pipe into the woods. "Back to work" I said with a smile, and we headed off into the sunset to save more souls.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Update
I guess it has been a while since I have been good at blogging, and I thought that I should give and update on my life. I like to make lists so I will make a list of updates on my life.
1. Cindy is knocked up again. I know that using the term "knocked up" isn't that nice of a term but I just love it. It just rolls off the tongue, I don't mean it in an insensitive way, I just like to break the news that way. I guess I just like the look that women give me when I say it that way, Its almost a look like shock that I used it, followed by a the "your an jerk look". (Yeah I get that a lot). The baby is due Nov. 3 just two years apart from Zacchy boy. I am really excited and not really scared. Cindy is a good enough mom to Zach that it makes up for my inadequacies in the dad department. With a wife like Cindy, I say bring em on.
2. I started Wrestling again. I am beat up and my cauliflower ear is back, I'll probably have to get a syringe and suck the blood out tonight.
3. I am taking my young men from church on a 50 mile hike in July for their high adventure. My first councillor Todd and I are stoked. We told the boys that we were going to turn them into men. I wonder if that transition will occur while they are packing my dead heart attacked body out of the deep Big Horn Wilderness.
4. It is supposed to be spring. Instead we got 3 inches of snow yesterday.
5. I have purchased a boat. It is fricken sweet. I would be willing to bet that it is the nicest boat in Wyoming. I don't even know anyone who has one like it. I Bought it for 50 dollars, its a 14', Steel Boat. I thought it was aluminum when I bought it, but when I lifted it up I realised by the rust and the weight that it was pure American Steel. It's gonna need a little work on the wood, but I think I can get it together in a couple of hours. I told my Wife that we were going to take it fishing to lake DeSmet. My wife declined. I told my wife that, that's what life jackets are for, She's not in. I bet I could get Stinky pockets to come up from Casper to go with me. The invite is open to anyone who wants a real fishing adventure. I think I'm going to paint a Rebel Flag on the side.
That's all I've got for now.
1. Cindy is knocked up again. I know that using the term "knocked up" isn't that nice of a term but I just love it. It just rolls off the tongue, I don't mean it in an insensitive way, I just like to break the news that way. I guess I just like the look that women give me when I say it that way, Its almost a look like shock that I used it, followed by a the "your an jerk look". (Yeah I get that a lot). The baby is due Nov. 3 just two years apart from Zacchy boy. I am really excited and not really scared. Cindy is a good enough mom to Zach that it makes up for my inadequacies in the dad department. With a wife like Cindy, I say bring em on.
2. I started Wrestling again. I am beat up and my cauliflower ear is back, I'll probably have to get a syringe and suck the blood out tonight.
3. I am taking my young men from church on a 50 mile hike in July for their high adventure. My first councillor Todd and I are stoked. We told the boys that we were going to turn them into men. I wonder if that transition will occur while they are packing my dead heart attacked body out of the deep Big Horn Wilderness.
4. It is supposed to be spring. Instead we got 3 inches of snow yesterday.
5. I have purchased a boat. It is fricken sweet. I would be willing to bet that it is the nicest boat in Wyoming. I don't even know anyone who has one like it. I Bought it for 50 dollars, its a 14', Steel Boat. I thought it was aluminum when I bought it, but when I lifted it up I realised by the rust and the weight that it was pure American Steel. It's gonna need a little work on the wood, but I think I can get it together in a couple of hours. I told my Wife that we were going to take it fishing to lake DeSmet. My wife declined. I told my wife that, that's what life jackets are for, She's not in. I bet I could get Stinky pockets to come up from Casper to go with me. The invite is open to anyone who wants a real fishing adventure. I think I'm going to paint a Rebel Flag on the side.
That's all I've got for now.
The F-Word.
When I was a boy, about the age of 9 was the first time I remember ever saying the F-word.
I wasn't a swearing boy, in fact I think that I was a pretty good kid, it's just, well, I said it at what I thought was the right time. I remember it like it was yesterday. Down the street from culdesac that I lived in, and over another street, was a street called Ironwood. It wasn't a heavily populated street, and it had a number of vacant lots. One day in a vacant lot my older brother, a few other friends, and I were messing around. We were doing our usual messing around, building huts, and playing games, around 4:00 PM a game erupted and due to some technicalities that I don't quite remember my older brother and I ended up in a fight. It wasn't an unusual showing, we probably had a good fight every couple of days. This was a little more intense because there were a few friends watching. There wasn't a lot of cheering or people trying to get us to fight, it was just my brother and I doing what came natural to us. I felt a little more pressure than usual because there were a number of older kids watching and I wanted to do a little better that I normally did. As my brother and I circled, I made the executive decision to not take the famous uppercut gut shot that I seemed to always step in to. It was a tool of evil that my brother always new how to throw just at the right time, always landing in the right place, sending all of the air out of my lungs paired with a deep uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that seemed to last forever. I decided that I needed to pull out a tool that I had never previously used, the F word. I positioned myself correctly dropped my hands, looked my brother in the eye and said it. I won't go into details on how I used it, just that I did. I didn't say it more than once, I didn't need to. As I said it, I watched my brothers hands drop, his face go pale, his lip quiver slightly, and, for a brief moment that vacant lot went silent. The fight was over, and I had won, or at least I thought I had won. That was when I realized that my brother had even better ammo, he looked at me and pulled what I thought was an even cheaper shot that what I had thrown. He looked at me and said: "I'm telling mom". Not in a whiny tattletale sort of way, just a quiet, slow, you don't know what kind of trouble you are in sort of way. He turned around, got on his bike and rode for home. I stayed that evening a little later in that vacant lot, pondering what had happened, and wondering what I had in store. I wondered what would happen to me that night, would it be the running butt kick from my Dad, the soap from my Mom, or the Bedroom grounding? I just didn't know what I had coming. I had never crossed into this territory. I was in uncharted waters. All three punishments were equal in magnitude. The Running butt kick usually consisted of me running away from my dad, and him always catching up with a good kick in the butt. It didn't hurt the butt as bad as it hurt the feelings, the "washing the mouth out with soap" usually consisted of my mother taking my toothbrush, wetting it, scrubbing the bar of soap and then scrubbing my tongue for a short period of time. And the bedroom was just simply sitting in my room for the rest of the night. I could have only hoped for such a punishment when I got home.
I arrived home a dinner time, and by the look on my parent faces, I could tell something was definitely up. Nothing was said at first, we blessed the food, and and began to dig in to either deer meet or casserole. I can't quite remember. I looked over at my older brother to kind of read the situation, he looked quite serious, and for a brief moment I thought he hadn't told. Then I got it, the worse punishment, or worse form of punishment that I ever remember getting from my Mom or Dad. My mother looked at me and said:" David, I heard you said the F-word today?" I looked down and said yes, but.. I was cut off to something that I never forgot. "David, I'm really disappointed in you. I always thought you were a nice boy and didn't talk that way. My mother then went into a speech about how a lady a few streets over always complimented her on her boys language. After we sat there for a minute, my dad looked at me and said, "we don't talk that way around here". and that was it. No formal punishment, just me with my thoughts. Something kind of hit me and I thought about it "I always thought you were a nice boy". Was I not a nice boy any more? Did I loose that status? Did the F-word and it's use turn me to the dark side? Was I a stoner now? Did I need to stop by the store and buy a Motely Crue T-shirt and sew hair metal band patches onto my jacket? Should I start smoking? I liked being a nice boy. I wondered if I had given that up by the public F bombing that I had thrown out. I thought about that for the rest of the nights activities. When I would walk past my mom in the house she would give me that sad disappointed look that felt like needles piercing my eyes. I was different now, I had managed to make such a drastic change from light to dark, green light saber to red, through the thoughtless use of a single syllable four letter word. What had I done? I felt horrible. I went into my room and sat down on my bed. I looked out the window as the sun set in the sky. The room was bright as the sun hit the yellow bedspreads draped across the two twin beds in my room. I didn't even want to think about the F-word. Look what I had become. As night fell, my younger brother came into the room, I watched him kneel down to say his prayers. I sat there for a moment and contemplated weather I should even say my prayers. Would they be heard? Now that I was not a nice boy would my prayers stop at the sparkled ceiling of my bedroom? I decided that I would give it one last shot before I gave into that dark side that was slowly trying to overcome me. I slowly slid off the bed and onto my knees. I folded my arms and closed my eyes and began my silent prayer. Heavenly Father, I'm sorry for saying the F-word, I don't want to be bad, please don't be mad at me. I knelt there for a minute and a feeling of peace started to overcome that knot of guilt that had been hurting my insides. I felt better. I didn't feel like a stoner or a bad boy. I felt at peace, I didn't feel like I had set my course for eternal damnation any more. I closed my prayer and climbed into bed. I quickly fell asleep. The next morning I woke up to my mother making breakfast. I walked into the kitchen, my mother said "good morning Dave" with a smile, and kissed me on the forehead. I felt good, I knew that God had forgiven me and my mother had forgiven me. I realised that, just as my Mother would always love me, there is a Father in Heaven that will always love me.
I think I learned at a young age, that regardless of what we do, weather they be big mistakes or little mistakes or a whole bunch of little and big mistakes mixed together. At the end of the day we don't have to be that bad person that Satan tries to make us feel that we are pre-destined to be. It doesn't matter if we have days or years worth of mistakes. There is always a way out, and there are always arms open waiting to take us back.
I learned a better F-Word. Forgiveness
I wasn't a swearing boy, in fact I think that I was a pretty good kid, it's just, well, I said it at what I thought was the right time. I remember it like it was yesterday. Down the street from culdesac that I lived in, and over another street, was a street called Ironwood. It wasn't a heavily populated street, and it had a number of vacant lots. One day in a vacant lot my older brother, a few other friends, and I were messing around. We were doing our usual messing around, building huts, and playing games, around 4:00 PM a game erupted and due to some technicalities that I don't quite remember my older brother and I ended up in a fight. It wasn't an unusual showing, we probably had a good fight every couple of days. This was a little more intense because there were a few friends watching. There wasn't a lot of cheering or people trying to get us to fight, it was just my brother and I doing what came natural to us. I felt a little more pressure than usual because there were a number of older kids watching and I wanted to do a little better that I normally did. As my brother and I circled, I made the executive decision to not take the famous uppercut gut shot that I seemed to always step in to. It was a tool of evil that my brother always new how to throw just at the right time, always landing in the right place, sending all of the air out of my lungs paired with a deep uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that seemed to last forever. I decided that I needed to pull out a tool that I had never previously used, the F word. I positioned myself correctly dropped my hands, looked my brother in the eye and said it. I won't go into details on how I used it, just that I did. I didn't say it more than once, I didn't need to. As I said it, I watched my brothers hands drop, his face go pale, his lip quiver slightly, and, for a brief moment that vacant lot went silent. The fight was over, and I had won, or at least I thought I had won. That was when I realized that my brother had even better ammo, he looked at me and pulled what I thought was an even cheaper shot that what I had thrown. He looked at me and said: "I'm telling mom". Not in a whiny tattletale sort of way, just a quiet, slow, you don't know what kind of trouble you are in sort of way. He turned around, got on his bike and rode for home. I stayed that evening a little later in that vacant lot, pondering what had happened, and wondering what I had in store. I wondered what would happen to me that night, would it be the running butt kick from my Dad, the soap from my Mom, or the Bedroom grounding? I just didn't know what I had coming. I had never crossed into this territory. I was in uncharted waters. All three punishments were equal in magnitude. The Running butt kick usually consisted of me running away from my dad, and him always catching up with a good kick in the butt. It didn't hurt the butt as bad as it hurt the feelings, the "washing the mouth out with soap" usually consisted of my mother taking my toothbrush, wetting it, scrubbing the bar of soap and then scrubbing my tongue for a short period of time. And the bedroom was just simply sitting in my room for the rest of the night. I could have only hoped for such a punishment when I got home.
I arrived home a dinner time, and by the look on my parent faces, I could tell something was definitely up. Nothing was said at first, we blessed the food, and and began to dig in to either deer meet or casserole. I can't quite remember. I looked over at my older brother to kind of read the situation, he looked quite serious, and for a brief moment I thought he hadn't told. Then I got it, the worse punishment, or worse form of punishment that I ever remember getting from my Mom or Dad. My mother looked at me and said:" David, I heard you said the F-word today?" I looked down and said yes, but.. I was cut off to something that I never forgot. "David, I'm really disappointed in you. I always thought you were a nice boy and didn't talk that way. My mother then went into a speech about how a lady a few streets over always complimented her on her boys language. After we sat there for a minute, my dad looked at me and said, "we don't talk that way around here". and that was it. No formal punishment, just me with my thoughts. Something kind of hit me and I thought about it "I always thought you were a nice boy". Was I not a nice boy any more? Did I loose that status? Did the F-word and it's use turn me to the dark side? Was I a stoner now? Did I need to stop by the store and buy a Motely Crue T-shirt and sew hair metal band patches onto my jacket? Should I start smoking? I liked being a nice boy. I wondered if I had given that up by the public F bombing that I had thrown out. I thought about that for the rest of the nights activities. When I would walk past my mom in the house she would give me that sad disappointed look that felt like needles piercing my eyes. I was different now, I had managed to make such a drastic change from light to dark, green light saber to red, through the thoughtless use of a single syllable four letter word. What had I done? I felt horrible. I went into my room and sat down on my bed. I looked out the window as the sun set in the sky. The room was bright as the sun hit the yellow bedspreads draped across the two twin beds in my room. I didn't even want to think about the F-word. Look what I had become. As night fell, my younger brother came into the room, I watched him kneel down to say his prayers. I sat there for a moment and contemplated weather I should even say my prayers. Would they be heard? Now that I was not a nice boy would my prayers stop at the sparkled ceiling of my bedroom? I decided that I would give it one last shot before I gave into that dark side that was slowly trying to overcome me. I slowly slid off the bed and onto my knees. I folded my arms and closed my eyes and began my silent prayer. Heavenly Father, I'm sorry for saying the F-word, I don't want to be bad, please don't be mad at me. I knelt there for a minute and a feeling of peace started to overcome that knot of guilt that had been hurting my insides. I felt better. I didn't feel like a stoner or a bad boy. I felt at peace, I didn't feel like I had set my course for eternal damnation any more. I closed my prayer and climbed into bed. I quickly fell asleep. The next morning I woke up to my mother making breakfast. I walked into the kitchen, my mother said "good morning Dave" with a smile, and kissed me on the forehead. I felt good, I knew that God had forgiven me and my mother had forgiven me. I realised that, just as my Mother would always love me, there is a Father in Heaven that will always love me.
I think I learned at a young age, that regardless of what we do, weather they be big mistakes or little mistakes or a whole bunch of little and big mistakes mixed together. At the end of the day we don't have to be that bad person that Satan tries to make us feel that we are pre-destined to be. It doesn't matter if we have days or years worth of mistakes. There is always a way out, and there are always arms open waiting to take us back.
I learned a better F-Word. Forgiveness
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Blog
So yesterday was the last day on my bridge. I am back in the office again today and decided that I would blog a little. I don't know what to blog about. Ive never written a tag and so I would like to tag anyone who reads my blog, if there is anyone left that reads my blog. My questions.
1. If you were trapped on a desert island who wouldn't you want to be there with?
2. For 100 million dollars would you cut off the first inch of your pinky finger?
3. Who do you find more attractive yourself or Bill Clinton?
4. What would you rather clean up poop or puke?
5. On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate your intellect against your friends?
6. If you had to choose one food to survive on for the rest of your life and only had the choice between mayonaise, catsup, horsey sause, or fat free Italian dressing what would it be?
7. If you had a free pass that let you commit any sin without having to pay for it what would you do?
8. If you had a billion dollars given to you what would be the first thing you would buy?
9. If the best plastic surgury clinic in the world told you they would fix any part of yourself for free what would you have done?
10. If you were given a choice to start your freshman year of high school knowing what you know now, having the mentality you have now transporting back into time into the old body you had with your adult brain, would you do it?
11. If yes to #10, do you thing you would be a better person reliving your life knowing the consequences, or would you be a worse person having a much more powerful brain?
If no to #10 why no?
12. Name one person that you would never eat dinner with, even if you were paid 300 dollars to do it?
13. Have you picked your nose within the last 7 days?
14. How many questions on my tag have you not been 100% honest to?
I guess it is only fair if I write a tag that I answer my own questions. So..
1. If you were trapped on a desert island who wouldn't you want to be there with? Rev. Jesse Jackson
2. For 200 million dollars would you cut off the first inch of your pinky finger? This took some thought for me, Yes.
3. Who do you find more attractive yourself or Bill Clinton? Myself
4. What would you rather clean up poop or puke? poop
5. On a scale of 1-10 (ten being highest) how would you rate your intellect against your friends? 2
6. If you had to choose one food to survive on for the rest of your life and only had the choice between mayonaise, catsup, horsey sause, or fat free Italian dressing what would it be? Fat free Italian Dressing
7. If you had a free pass that let you commit any sin without having to pay for it what would you do? I would Rob a Bank. A big bank.
8. If you had a billion dollars given to you what would be the first thing you would buy? A H4 model of the duramax diesel.
9. If the best plastic surgury clinic in the world told you they would fix any part of yourself for free what would you have done? I would fix my Cut off Pinky finger from question #2
10. If you were given a choice to start your freshman year of high school knowing what you know now, having the mentality you have now transporting back into time into the old body you had with your adult brain, would you do it? No.
11. If yes to #10, do you thing you would be a better person reliving your life knowing the consequences, or would you be a worse person having a much more powerful brain?
If no to #10 why no? I couldn't wait that long to see my little boy and wife, plus it wouldnt be worth the risk of that not happening.
12. Name one person that you would never eat dinner with, even if you were paid 300 dollars to do it? Rosie O'donnell
13. Have you picked your nose within the last 7 days? Yes.
14. How many questions on my tag have you not been 100% honest to?1
I tag everyone, you know who you are. If you do not have a blog answer in my comments.
1. If you were trapped on a desert island who wouldn't you want to be there with?
2. For 100 million dollars would you cut off the first inch of your pinky finger?
3. Who do you find more attractive yourself or Bill Clinton?
4. What would you rather clean up poop or puke?
5. On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate your intellect against your friends?
6. If you had to choose one food to survive on for the rest of your life and only had the choice between mayonaise, catsup, horsey sause, or fat free Italian dressing what would it be?
7. If you had a free pass that let you commit any sin without having to pay for it what would you do?
8. If you had a billion dollars given to you what would be the first thing you would buy?
9. If the best plastic surgury clinic in the world told you they would fix any part of yourself for free what would you have done?
10. If you were given a choice to start your freshman year of high school knowing what you know now, having the mentality you have now transporting back into time into the old body you had with your adult brain, would you do it?
11. If yes to #10, do you thing you would be a better person reliving your life knowing the consequences, or would you be a worse person having a much more powerful brain?
If no to #10 why no?
12. Name one person that you would never eat dinner with, even if you were paid 300 dollars to do it?
13. Have you picked your nose within the last 7 days?
14. How many questions on my tag have you not been 100% honest to?
I guess it is only fair if I write a tag that I answer my own questions. So..
1. If you were trapped on a desert island who wouldn't you want to be there with? Rev. Jesse Jackson
2. For 200 million dollars would you cut off the first inch of your pinky finger? This took some thought for me, Yes.
3. Who do you find more attractive yourself or Bill Clinton? Myself
4. What would you rather clean up poop or puke? poop
5. On a scale of 1-10 (ten being highest) how would you rate your intellect against your friends? 2
6. If you had to choose one food to survive on for the rest of your life and only had the choice between mayonaise, catsup, horsey sause, or fat free Italian dressing what would it be? Fat free Italian Dressing
7. If you had a free pass that let you commit any sin without having to pay for it what would you do? I would Rob a Bank. A big bank.
8. If you had a billion dollars given to you what would be the first thing you would buy? A H4 model of the duramax diesel.
9. If the best plastic surgury clinic in the world told you they would fix any part of yourself for free what would you have done? I would fix my Cut off Pinky finger from question #2
10. If you were given a choice to start your freshman year of high school knowing what you know now, having the mentality you have now transporting back into time into the old body you had with your adult brain, would you do it? No.
11. If yes to #10, do you thing you would be a better person reliving your life knowing the consequences, or would you be a worse person having a much more powerful brain?
If no to #10 why no? I couldn't wait that long to see my little boy and wife, plus it wouldnt be worth the risk of that not happening.
12. Name one person that you would never eat dinner with, even if you were paid 300 dollars to do it? Rosie O'donnell
13. Have you picked your nose within the last 7 days? Yes.
14. How many questions on my tag have you not been 100% honest to?1
I tag everyone, you know who you are. If you do not have a blog answer in my comments.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Big Jake
I just wanted to give a big shoutout to my little bro Gregg and his wife Lisa, a big congrats on the new baby, Jake. Thats a good looking little man.
Friday, April 4, 2008
3 years
Well, I guess I will continue on with my story. 3 years ago today, I woke up around 6:00 am. The sound of an alarm clock buzzing in my head. I sat up in that dingy, dive of a motel room and reflected on the last nights dreams. I had crazy dreams through the night, dreams of Wyoming, dreams of my wife living in Wyoming. I guess they were the type of dreams that you wake up and it takes a while to figure out if they were a dream or not. The kind of dream that sticks with you for the rest of the day.
As I shook it off I climbed out of my sleeping bag and plopped on to the floor again for another prayer. I don't think it was a regular prayer, not my usual, "help me have a good day" la da da da da, but It had a little more meaning to it, in fact it carried more pleading, more pleases, more thank yous, and more help me I don't know what I am doings , in fact there were a whole lot of help me I don't know what I am doings.
I wasn't to meet my boss's son until 8:00 AM, so I had plenty of time to get ready, plus the office was about 2 minutes away from the Western Motel. The sick feeling looming about four inches behind my naval had fled through the middle of the night but started slowly creeping its way back with every click of the clock. I jumped into the shower, nearly slipping on the mildewy tile, took a quick navy shower and got dressed. I had some clothes set aside, new clothes a yellow plaid button up shirt and a pair of new pants. I thought it would be important to make a good 1st impression with nice new clothes. The funny thing about that shirt, is that day was probably the only time I ever wore that shirt. It still sits in my closet having one wash and as new as it was three years ago. I don't know why but the sick feeling of that day comes back every time I look at that shirt.
After getting ready, watching a little TV, kneeling down for three or four more prayers, I loaded my crates back into the back of my truck, and headed for a gas station. It struck me as I pulled into the gas station that the parking lot was not paved. I know that is something little but that was a type of catalyst to that sick feeling that I was feeling, and that doubt and fear that was taking everything that I possibly had to not succumb to.
After filling up with gas, I drove to my new home office. I was a little early and after about five minutes Will (my bosses son) pulled up in a nice Duramax Diesel. Will was about 6'-1" a lean 200 lbs, he looked normal, I noticed his lower lip protruded a little more from a morning dip of Copenhagen satisfaction. I climbed out of my truck and walked to the front door of the office as he unlocked it. He said, You Dave? I mustered up a pretty good smile, stuck my hand out and said "I sure am, you must be Will, nice to meet you"), (hell, I think I'd make a good politician sick feeling or not). We walked into the office, the building was large, which pleased me. The first think that I notice was the cigarette smell as I walked into the office, it was quite imposing, and coming from Utah, I just wasn't used to the smell of cigarettes inside a building, as I looked around, I noticed numerous trophy animals on the wall and that pleased me, in fact it pleased me enough to forget about the cigarette smell. We walked back into Will's office and another thing that pleased me was the equipment. Everything was the best, the best computers, the best printers. I noticed that Will had a box with a new pair of Danner hunting boots on the couch of his office. That kind of made me feel a little better. I don't know why, I guess I am a little weird. After about an hour of talking and meeting people in the office, I said my goodbyes, left the office and climbed back into my truck. I have to admit that I was getting pretty excited to see Sheridan, I had only heard good things about the place and needed to see for myself. What if it was like Green River??? What if? The sick feeling made itself aware again.
As my red Chevrolet pickup pulled back onto I-80, I took in the sights and thought, it could only get better from here. After about 30 minutes on I-80, I was still saying it could only get better from here.
There is something lonely about the high plains of Wyoming, and if you have never driven between Green River and Rawlins you will probably never know what I mean. About mid-way between Rawlins and Green River I had to take a wizz so I pulled off a ranch exit and pulled under the freeway. As the wind blew and I heard nothing but diesels driving overhead I wondered what kind of desolate hell I was getting myself into. While I was taking a wizz the cold wind and dust hit me and I began to contemplate my sanity. I thought about the good job that I had turned down in Saint George, I thought about my wife at home alone having to live for the next couple of months by herself, I thought of the good times that I would be leaving with my family and my wife's family, I thought about missing the daily stop at my Dad's office after work to just talk. But then I thought about what it would do to me to give up before I even gave it a shot, I thought about telling my wife that I was going to make it in Wyoming and going back on that and what that would do to me, and I thought about the new Duramax Diesel and Four Wheeler waiting for me at my new job, I thought about the answered prayers and what God wanted me to do, and the money, yes the sweet money.
I jumped back into my truck and began to drive. After about 30 more minutes of Hell, I called my wife. She asked how it was going? I said, I don't know, I just don't know. She asked if it was pretty, I said well not really, pretty close to hell. We hung up. I looked north-east, no mountains for a million miles. I couldn't see mountains anywhere, just sage brush and wind.
Rawlins. After what seemed like forever, I had reached Rawlins. Rawlins was the point on the map that stopped my eastern route and took me north. I wasn't impressed with Rawlins. Rawlins was the dumpiest town that I had ever been in. I stopped at a Loaf and Jug, but didn't feel much like anything. So I headed north. The drive between Rawlins and Casper didn't seem to get any better in fact as I drove past the Martins Cove area my moral hit an all time low. In fact, I don't know of a time in my life that it had ever been that low. I began to think about the pioneers. I thought about the pioneers leaving there homes, and I wondered if when they hit the Martins Cove area if they about lost it. I realised that it was faith that brought them to that point, and it was a something of a spiritual experience as my path crossed the path that I had envisioned they had made. I realised that I was a pioneer in my own sense and also realised the faith that the earlier pioneers had, made mine seem bleak in comparison. There they were burying their children in frozen graves and still pushing on, on the other hand there I was driving 75 mph down the highway about to give up because I was homesick. I had a couple of realizations in about a five mile stretch that I will never be able to forget.
One realization that I will never forget was how important it is to understand God's will before you make a decision because God sees the whole picture. I think it is easy sometimes to want something so bad that we do not allow God's will to play into the picture. I knew that before even praying about the Wyoming move that I really wanted to live in Wyoming. I had to do a little praying around Martins Cove to check myself, because I no longer wanted to live in Wyoming. I was really ready to accept God's will. To my relief I had gotten another answer that, yes I needed to be making this move.
As I drove away from Martin's Cove, I sang Come Come Ye Saints. The song would never be the same to me again.
Casper. Beautiful Casper. As I pulled into Casper, the wind about blew me off the road. I pulled into another Loaf and Jug to get gas. I called my wife and told her about beautiful Casper. It had mountains, it had wind, it was cold, and frankly wasn't the beautiful Wyoming that I had envisioned. I walked into the gas station to use the bathroom, the lady at the counter pointed to the out of service sign on the bathroom door and directed me to the port-o-potty out side. As I sat in that port-o-potty and as the wind nearly blew me over, the thought came to me. I am only 2 hours away from Sheridan, there is no possible way that in just 2 short hours that the landscape would be able to make the transition to the paradise that I had imagined. I thought maybe God wants me out here because that's what I deserve, I mean shoot, I ain't that good of kid. I left the poly-john wondering.
I jumped back into my truck and headed for Sheridan. As I passed Kaycee Wyoming the home of Chris Ledoux, I wasn't overly impressed. I said to myself "that Chris Ledoux is full of sh%#." and "Sweet Wyoming Home my @ss!" How could I have been so mis-led by his songs of Big Wonderful Wyoming? I didn't stop.
Hmmmmmmm. Okay, I thought to myself after about ten more miles. Maybe this isn't too bad. As I reached the town of Buffalo, a calmness settled into my soul. I apologised silently to Chris Ledoux for all of the bad things that I had said. Buffalo was absolutely beautiful. How could this have happened? No wind, What? I had to stop. I saw a gas station, so I pulled off. The gas station was named the G-spot. I giggled to myself... G-spot heh heh heh, your telling me. I talked to the fat kid at the counter about Sheridan as he rang up my soda pop. I asked him if Sheridan was as nice as Buffalo, he said yeah, we just have more white trash in Buffalo. I laughed, thanked him and got back into my truck and headed north for the last 30 minutes of my trip. That 30 minutes was the most stress relieving trip of my life. I looked at ranches and houses, and imagined places that I would live. It was beautiful. In fact, I did not remember ever being in such beautiful country.
Sheridan. As I pulled into Sheridan, I felt good. I said a quick prayer and thanked God for his mercy and love. I told God that I loved him and that I would make it right with him for hooking me up. I called my wife and told her I was there. I told her: "Cindy, you can't believe how lucky we are!" I hung up. I was here. I called the guy I was supposed to meet, we met and I made it. I would make it my Sweet Wyoming home.
I wrote about this, not to bore the world with my whining and stories but, I guess it was the most pivotal thing I had ever done.
I have had a good life as an adult. I mean I went on a mission away from home when I was 19 for two years, I got married, my wife and I lived on our own, we put ourselves through school without scholarships, we have never taken a dime from our parents, We both earned college degrees. We made it on our own without trust funds or inheritances. We did everything on what we learned from our parents and faith in God.
I did a lot of things as an adult, but moving to Wyoming with nothing but faith in an answered prayer made me a man. I guess that's why I wrote about it.
As I shook it off I climbed out of my sleeping bag and plopped on to the floor again for another prayer. I don't think it was a regular prayer, not my usual, "help me have a good day" la da da da da, but It had a little more meaning to it, in fact it carried more pleading, more pleases, more thank yous, and more help me I don't know what I am doings , in fact there were a whole lot of help me I don't know what I am doings.
I wasn't to meet my boss's son until 8:00 AM, so I had plenty of time to get ready, plus the office was about 2 minutes away from the Western Motel. The sick feeling looming about four inches behind my naval had fled through the middle of the night but started slowly creeping its way back with every click of the clock. I jumped into the shower, nearly slipping on the mildewy tile, took a quick navy shower and got dressed. I had some clothes set aside, new clothes a yellow plaid button up shirt and a pair of new pants. I thought it would be important to make a good 1st impression with nice new clothes. The funny thing about that shirt, is that day was probably the only time I ever wore that shirt. It still sits in my closet having one wash and as new as it was three years ago. I don't know why but the sick feeling of that day comes back every time I look at that shirt.
After getting ready, watching a little TV, kneeling down for three or four more prayers, I loaded my crates back into the back of my truck, and headed for a gas station. It struck me as I pulled into the gas station that the parking lot was not paved. I know that is something little but that was a type of catalyst to that sick feeling that I was feeling, and that doubt and fear that was taking everything that I possibly had to not succumb to.
After filling up with gas, I drove to my new home office. I was a little early and after about five minutes Will (my bosses son) pulled up in a nice Duramax Diesel. Will was about 6'-1" a lean 200 lbs, he looked normal, I noticed his lower lip protruded a little more from a morning dip of Copenhagen satisfaction. I climbed out of my truck and walked to the front door of the office as he unlocked it. He said, You Dave? I mustered up a pretty good smile, stuck my hand out and said "I sure am, you must be Will, nice to meet you"), (hell, I think I'd make a good politician sick feeling or not). We walked into the office, the building was large, which pleased me. The first think that I notice was the cigarette smell as I walked into the office, it was quite imposing, and coming from Utah, I just wasn't used to the smell of cigarettes inside a building, as I looked around, I noticed numerous trophy animals on the wall and that pleased me, in fact it pleased me enough to forget about the cigarette smell. We walked back into Will's office and another thing that pleased me was the equipment. Everything was the best, the best computers, the best printers. I noticed that Will had a box with a new pair of Danner hunting boots on the couch of his office. That kind of made me feel a little better. I don't know why, I guess I am a little weird. After about an hour of talking and meeting people in the office, I said my goodbyes, left the office and climbed back into my truck. I have to admit that I was getting pretty excited to see Sheridan, I had only heard good things about the place and needed to see for myself. What if it was like Green River??? What if? The sick feeling made itself aware again.
As my red Chevrolet pickup pulled back onto I-80, I took in the sights and thought, it could only get better from here. After about 30 minutes on I-80, I was still saying it could only get better from here.
There is something lonely about the high plains of Wyoming, and if you have never driven between Green River and Rawlins you will probably never know what I mean. About mid-way between Rawlins and Green River I had to take a wizz so I pulled off a ranch exit and pulled under the freeway. As the wind blew and I heard nothing but diesels driving overhead I wondered what kind of desolate hell I was getting myself into. While I was taking a wizz the cold wind and dust hit me and I began to contemplate my sanity. I thought about the good job that I had turned down in Saint George, I thought about my wife at home alone having to live for the next couple of months by herself, I thought of the good times that I would be leaving with my family and my wife's family, I thought about missing the daily stop at my Dad's office after work to just talk. But then I thought about what it would do to me to give up before I even gave it a shot, I thought about telling my wife that I was going to make it in Wyoming and going back on that and what that would do to me, and I thought about the new Duramax Diesel and Four Wheeler waiting for me at my new job, I thought about the answered prayers and what God wanted me to do, and the money, yes the sweet money.
I jumped back into my truck and began to drive. After about 30 more minutes of Hell, I called my wife. She asked how it was going? I said, I don't know, I just don't know. She asked if it was pretty, I said well not really, pretty close to hell. We hung up. I looked north-east, no mountains for a million miles. I couldn't see mountains anywhere, just sage brush and wind.
Rawlins. After what seemed like forever, I had reached Rawlins. Rawlins was the point on the map that stopped my eastern route and took me north. I wasn't impressed with Rawlins. Rawlins was the dumpiest town that I had ever been in. I stopped at a Loaf and Jug, but didn't feel much like anything. So I headed north. The drive between Rawlins and Casper didn't seem to get any better in fact as I drove past the Martins Cove area my moral hit an all time low. In fact, I don't know of a time in my life that it had ever been that low. I began to think about the pioneers. I thought about the pioneers leaving there homes, and I wondered if when they hit the Martins Cove area if they about lost it. I realised that it was faith that brought them to that point, and it was a something of a spiritual experience as my path crossed the path that I had envisioned they had made. I realised that I was a pioneer in my own sense and also realised the faith that the earlier pioneers had, made mine seem bleak in comparison. There they were burying their children in frozen graves and still pushing on, on the other hand there I was driving 75 mph down the highway about to give up because I was homesick. I had a couple of realizations in about a five mile stretch that I will never be able to forget.
One realization that I will never forget was how important it is to understand God's will before you make a decision because God sees the whole picture. I think it is easy sometimes to want something so bad that we do not allow God's will to play into the picture. I knew that before even praying about the Wyoming move that I really wanted to live in Wyoming. I had to do a little praying around Martins Cove to check myself, because I no longer wanted to live in Wyoming. I was really ready to accept God's will. To my relief I had gotten another answer that, yes I needed to be making this move.
As I drove away from Martin's Cove, I sang Come Come Ye Saints. The song would never be the same to me again.
Casper. Beautiful Casper. As I pulled into Casper, the wind about blew me off the road. I pulled into another Loaf and Jug to get gas. I called my wife and told her about beautiful Casper. It had mountains, it had wind, it was cold, and frankly wasn't the beautiful Wyoming that I had envisioned. I walked into the gas station to use the bathroom, the lady at the counter pointed to the out of service sign on the bathroom door and directed me to the port-o-potty out side. As I sat in that port-o-potty and as the wind nearly blew me over, the thought came to me. I am only 2 hours away from Sheridan, there is no possible way that in just 2 short hours that the landscape would be able to make the transition to the paradise that I had imagined. I thought maybe God wants me out here because that's what I deserve, I mean shoot, I ain't that good of kid. I left the poly-john wondering.
I jumped back into my truck and headed for Sheridan. As I passed Kaycee Wyoming the home of Chris Ledoux, I wasn't overly impressed. I said to myself "that Chris Ledoux is full of sh%#." and "Sweet Wyoming Home my @ss!" How could I have been so mis-led by his songs of Big Wonderful Wyoming? I didn't stop.
Hmmmmmmm. Okay, I thought to myself after about ten more miles. Maybe this isn't too bad. As I reached the town of Buffalo, a calmness settled into my soul. I apologised silently to Chris Ledoux for all of the bad things that I had said. Buffalo was absolutely beautiful. How could this have happened? No wind, What? I had to stop. I saw a gas station, so I pulled off. The gas station was named the G-spot. I giggled to myself... G-spot heh heh heh, your telling me. I talked to the fat kid at the counter about Sheridan as he rang up my soda pop. I asked him if Sheridan was as nice as Buffalo, he said yeah, we just have more white trash in Buffalo. I laughed, thanked him and got back into my truck and headed north for the last 30 minutes of my trip. That 30 minutes was the most stress relieving trip of my life. I looked at ranches and houses, and imagined places that I would live. It was beautiful. In fact, I did not remember ever being in such beautiful country.
Sheridan. As I pulled into Sheridan, I felt good. I said a quick prayer and thanked God for his mercy and love. I told God that I loved him and that I would make it right with him for hooking me up. I called my wife and told her I was there. I told her: "Cindy, you can't believe how lucky we are!" I hung up. I was here. I called the guy I was supposed to meet, we met and I made it. I would make it my Sweet Wyoming home.
I wrote about this, not to bore the world with my whining and stories but, I guess it was the most pivotal thing I had ever done.
I have had a good life as an adult. I mean I went on a mission away from home when I was 19 for two years, I got married, my wife and I lived on our own, we put ourselves through school without scholarships, we have never taken a dime from our parents, We both earned college degrees. We made it on our own without trust funds or inheritances. We did everything on what we learned from our parents and faith in God.
I did a lot of things as an adult, but moving to Wyoming with nothing but faith in an answered prayer made me a man. I guess that's why I wrote about it.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
3 Years
Three years ago today, with a wild excitement and a hint of fear, I packed 4 large grey crates full of books, clothes, a sleeping bag, and a couple of guns into the back of my Red Chevy pickup, wiped the tears off my wife's cheek, kissed her, told her I loved her, smiled and said, I'm off to make it in Wyoming. I climbed into my truck and started to drive. After a month of deep prayers, and reasoning, and revelation. I was off to where I thought God wanted me to be. It was Sunday and I listened to conference as I drove up I-15, hoping to get a little more revelation to help me on my journey. I was comfortable, and I felt good. I think that I had been dreaming of living in Wyoming since I was a kid, having only been there a couple of times, there was something about it that made me want it.
As I hit Provo I found myself in a traffic jam, thinking to myself, man I am sure glad to not be settling into Provo. As I ventured further looking for the belt route that led me to Wyoming, I saw a large maroon pickup with Wyoming plates and a bumper sticker that said ONE WOLF WILL KILL 300 Elk IN 1 YEAR! or something like that. I knew what truck to follow. I followed the truck through the belt route, up over Parley's Summit, Through Park City, and into Wyoming. I stopped at the welcome to Wyoming sign and took a picture to send home to my wife, (of whom I was already missing terribly). I lost my conference signal as I drove past Evanston East on I-80 and the silence came.
Silence. Wyoming Silence, High Plains Cold Windy Silence. As I drove across the high plains of I-80 through Southern Wyoming, my excitement kind of went to the back of my mind. I was in country that I had never been before, and I think a little fear came to the front of my mind as if to say, you dummy, what are you doing? What if Sheridan looks like Southern Wyoming? What if? What if? What if????????
A lot a questions, a lot of doubt, and fear seemed to be exponentially creeping up on me. The only thing that would slow the fear was prayer. I prayed in that old red truck, I prayed hard, I prayed out loud. I talked to the Big man like he was there with me. (looking back, I really think he was there with me.) My destination was Green River, Wyoming. I would stay the night there, meet my Bosses son at the home office the next morning, and head to Sheridan. It was a good halfway mark. As I pulled into Green River, I've got to say I was a little disappointed. I drove through town saying more than five times under my breath, what a dump. I drove around searching for a Motel that I could back my truck to the door, pull my crates in for the night and sleep. I found a place called the Western Motel. Not to be confused with the Best Western. You all know Motel Six, this was about a Motel 2. I went to the front desk, asked him the rates, (not hourly), and got a room. I backed up my pickup to the door and unloaded my crates. The room was a non-smoking room but it was a hard sell by the evident cigarette burns. The burns were so frequent I almost thought that they were part of the decorations. There was even a cigarette burn through the television. But hey for 30 Bucks a night, that wasn't too bad.
I wasn't hungry and I thought that if I ate I would be able to rid my stomach of the sick feeling that was beginning to collect about 4 inches behind my naval. So I drove to Hardees and bought some double Angus burger meal. It was starting to get dark so I grabbed my food and drove back to my Motel. I walked into my room ate a couple of bites. I wasn't hungry so I set my burger down on the lamp table and grabbed a phonebook. I had the Idea to call my bosses kid, perhaps he'll be friendly and possibly make me feel better about all of this.
I called him, and after a brief discussion hung up discouraged even more. The sick feeling starting to set a little deeper. I had another thought. I'll call the guy that recruited me he could make me feel good again. So I called him. I think the first think I said was I talked to Will and I am wondering if you are screwing me, Bro, you ain't screwing me are you? He assured me that I was hooked up better than I could imagine. I hung up, feeling a little better. I called my wife talked for a minute. Talking to her made me homesick for her, she was positive, and there was something comforting and motivating in her voice. I got off the phone, and wishing that it was my own bed that I was climbing into. went to the bed, knelt down on a cigarette burnt carpet and prayed for a good hour. After I was done, I got up, felt a little better, pulled down the covers to the bed to climb in, only to find that the sheets had holes in them down to the yellow stained mattress. I pulled the covers back up, opened my crate with my sleeping bag, rolled it out and laid down. After about 30 seconds of laying the sick lonely feeling came back. I climbed out of my sleeping bag and knelt down on the burnt carpet again, asking for help, asking for courage, and a good night's sleep. I climbed back into bed and very quickly fell asleep.
To be continued tomorrow...
As I hit Provo I found myself in a traffic jam, thinking to myself, man I am sure glad to not be settling into Provo. As I ventured further looking for the belt route that led me to Wyoming, I saw a large maroon pickup with Wyoming plates and a bumper sticker that said ONE WOLF WILL KILL 300 Elk IN 1 YEAR! or something like that. I knew what truck to follow. I followed the truck through the belt route, up over Parley's Summit, Through Park City, and into Wyoming. I stopped at the welcome to Wyoming sign and took a picture to send home to my wife, (of whom I was already missing terribly). I lost my conference signal as I drove past Evanston East on I-80 and the silence came.
Silence. Wyoming Silence, High Plains Cold Windy Silence. As I drove across the high plains of I-80 through Southern Wyoming, my excitement kind of went to the back of my mind. I was in country that I had never been before, and I think a little fear came to the front of my mind as if to say, you dummy, what are you doing? What if Sheridan looks like Southern Wyoming? What if? What if? What if????????
A lot a questions, a lot of doubt, and fear seemed to be exponentially creeping up on me. The only thing that would slow the fear was prayer. I prayed in that old red truck, I prayed hard, I prayed out loud. I talked to the Big man like he was there with me. (looking back, I really think he was there with me.) My destination was Green River, Wyoming. I would stay the night there, meet my Bosses son at the home office the next morning, and head to Sheridan. It was a good halfway mark. As I pulled into Green River, I've got to say I was a little disappointed. I drove through town saying more than five times under my breath, what a dump. I drove around searching for a Motel that I could back my truck to the door, pull my crates in for the night and sleep. I found a place called the Western Motel. Not to be confused with the Best Western. You all know Motel Six, this was about a Motel 2. I went to the front desk, asked him the rates, (not hourly), and got a room. I backed up my pickup to the door and unloaded my crates. The room was a non-smoking room but it was a hard sell by the evident cigarette burns. The burns were so frequent I almost thought that they were part of the decorations. There was even a cigarette burn through the television. But hey for 30 Bucks a night, that wasn't too bad.
I wasn't hungry and I thought that if I ate I would be able to rid my stomach of the sick feeling that was beginning to collect about 4 inches behind my naval. So I drove to Hardees and bought some double Angus burger meal. It was starting to get dark so I grabbed my food and drove back to my Motel. I walked into my room ate a couple of bites. I wasn't hungry so I set my burger down on the lamp table and grabbed a phonebook. I had the Idea to call my bosses kid, perhaps he'll be friendly and possibly make me feel better about all of this.
I called him, and after a brief discussion hung up discouraged even more. The sick feeling starting to set a little deeper. I had another thought. I'll call the guy that recruited me he could make me feel good again. So I called him. I think the first think I said was I talked to Will and I am wondering if you are screwing me, Bro, you ain't screwing me are you? He assured me that I was hooked up better than I could imagine. I hung up, feeling a little better. I called my wife talked for a minute. Talking to her made me homesick for her, she was positive, and there was something comforting and motivating in her voice. I got off the phone, and wishing that it was my own bed that I was climbing into. went to the bed, knelt down on a cigarette burnt carpet and prayed for a good hour. After I was done, I got up, felt a little better, pulled down the covers to the bed to climb in, only to find that the sheets had holes in them down to the yellow stained mattress. I pulled the covers back up, opened my crate with my sleeping bag, rolled it out and laid down. After about 30 seconds of laying the sick lonely feeling came back. I climbed out of my sleeping bag and knelt down on the burnt carpet again, asking for help, asking for courage, and a good night's sleep. I climbed back into bed and very quickly fell asleep.
To be continued tomorrow...
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